Write an autobiography of a One Rupee Coin [PDF Available]


In this article, I’ll show you an example of an autobiography writing of a one rupee coin.

autobiography of a coin

I used to just have a big scrap of metal before I got the name Coin. I did not always look like this. I used to look like a pale, metallic sheet that does not have an appealing shape.

All my ancestors looked like this. Everyone was pale and everyone was just a piece of metal. People used to cut my ancestors, use them for various purposes but they would never value them.

After the metal rots, they would throw it away and buy a new one. We were only used but never seen, never respected, never loved. Then one day, late in the 600 B.C, we were shaped by humans and we were given certain value to us.


Ever since then, all our relatives, be it copper, gold or silver, some of us got transformed to beautiful round shapes that carried a value people longed to have in their pockets. We were transformed from mere, ugly looking metals to coins. 

Just like my ancestors, I was dug up from the ground by humans. A big, heavy, shapeless, ugly piece of rock was converted into money. Money is something that everyone loves and craves for.

When I was first taken to the minting factory, it was scary. So many people were working tirelessly to make us metal pieces look beautiful. I come from the steel family tree.

The Indians have started using us to make their coins now. Earlier, my maternal side, the nickel family, used to make coins. They ruled India for a very long time. Then in 2002, their value increased. Production of coins using Nickel became very high and they had to find an alternative.

That is when they brought us. It was a day of celebration in our family. We were so happy to have been chosen to be the main component in the production of coins in India. 

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Many sheets of our stainless steel family were brought together to process. We were all waiting eagerly to increase our value. We were taken to the mint factory of eastern India, Kolkata.

Kolkata was a huge, busy city. I was born in Maharashtra that lies on the western coast of India. Travelling all the way to the east was so beautiful. I saw so many places falling in between and met so many people.

This journey showed me how each and every corner of this country is so different from one another. Every place has a language of their own, food of their own, culture of their own, dressing style of their own.

Every place looks so different from one another. The country is vast and beautiful and full of people. It has a large population and everyone is always moving. 

When I crossed the West Bengal border, I suddenly saw an absolutely different culture. Apart from a lot of people being busy, nothing was the same. Even the place smelled different.

We were taken to Kolkata. In Kolkata, there is a big minting factory that produces coins in this country. Some of my family members were sent to other parts of the country. Some of my cousins were taken to Hyderabad, my parents were taken to Noida, and I was brought here.

My grandparents decided to be minted in Mumbai only. I wish they could see vast India as I did. I wish they could have travelled with me but alas, they could not. I wish they could have seen the diversity as I did too. But then, after becoming coins, they are going to travel. I hope they like where they go. 

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I was taken to the Indian Government Mint, Kolkata. It was this huge mint factory. I had never seen anything like this. I have never been to any mint factory and it was overwhelming.

I met some of my long lost relatives there. I was so excited to get converted into a coin. To look beautiful like the others, to have value to myself. Soon, I was cute, shaped, washed, pressed and finally minted into a beautiful 2 rupee coin.

I loved my new look. I felt important and special. I could not wait to go out into the pockets of people and feel them use me to buy things, feel the importance that they would give me. 

My first owner, after the bank was a 50-year old man. He did not notice me much when he got me. He just put me in a bag and forgot about me. It was dark and stinky in the bag. I waited for so many days to get out but all I could see was darkness.

One day, while I was fast asleep, I felt a human hand on my cool metal surface. I was excited that finally I will be used. The person who took me out of the bag was a 10-year-old kid, who picked me up along with some notes and left the room quietly.

Then he took me outside. I saw him using the notes to buy himself an ice cream. I was eagerly waiting for my turn to come. After ice-cream, he bought himself some candies, sweets, biscuits, chips, cola and so many other things but never bothered to use me.

Then he ran towards other kids and they were forming teams to play a certain game called cricket and they needed a coin to decide who gets to bat first. I got so excited when I heard this.  

I felt the hand of the kid on my skin again. I was going to be used, I was going to be valued. I was so excited. But suddenly, a sharp pain went across my body and lo and behold I was in the air.

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Then I fell down on the ground and hit my head. It hurt a lot and I was dirty now. The boys started to fight over something and completely forgot about me. The kids were stepping on me, kicking me and no one was picking me up. I laid there motionless and bruised. The kids forgot all about me and went home.  

I had lost all hope in humans by then. But suddenly, I felt someone else picking me up. I was dirty and scratched by then. I was not beautiful anymore. I knew the person who picked me up was just going to throw me away. But a miracle happened.

The person who picked me up was a beggar who used me to buy himself a piece of bread. I saw him enjoy that bead and eat it as if he had been hungry for a very long time.

Finally, I was valued for who I was. This is when it hit me. Beauty can never contribute to your value. Being beautiful is not going to increase your value but your value can only be understood by a person who knows what it means to have something. So, this was my story. The story of a one rupee coin. 

How Was It?

How was this autobiography of a one rupee coin?

I hope you enjoyed this writing.

Now It’s your turn to practice this autobiography.

You can write it on a plain notebook for a couple of times, then you can easily remember the key points.

I hope this example helps you.

Do let me know if you have any queries by leaving a comment below.